Mirror, Mirror
by therewassnow
Summary: Santana's parents are moving into a bigger house so Santana's going through her lingerie to pack it up. Luckily, Finn Hudson happens to stop by while she's in a revealing outfit. Pure smut.


**Disclaimer: **Don't own Glee, the characters, etc.

**Author's note: **Fulfilling a prompt at the Santana Lopez drabble meme.

* * *

><p>Santana Lopez knows she's hot. She doesn't need anyone to tell her that. Sure, when she used to look in the mirror, her boobs were a little small, but she got that fixed and now, when she looks in the mirror, she sees perfection. And she's staring at herself in the mirror now because she's home alone and fuck, she has nothing better to do with her time. She has one of those mirrors with the three folding panels, so she can get an almost 360-degree view of herself at all times. And <em>damn<em>, it is one hell of a view.

Her family is moving, apparently the house they have isn't fucking big enough or something, so she's actually going through her lingerie and deciding what she wants and doesn't want. In reality, she wants it all, because she looks fucking amazing in everything, but still, she plays the game with herself where she pretends she can't remember how hot she looks in certain outfits.

She can't really justify why she's wearing the black fuck-me stripper heels (first of all, she's totally not a stripper, and second of all, she already went through her shoes) but they make her legs look _amazing_, and they totally compliment the black, lacy thong that she's wearing and the black and white corset. She's laced it as tight as she can and her tits are literally spilling out of the top. She's not sure that it's even legal to look this hot.

Adjusting the corset on her boobs slightly, Santana smirks as the door opens downstairs. She knows it's Finn, because they have this _thing_ going. Sometimes, when they're bored, they show up at each other's house and fuck. She's not spending time in anyone else's bed, and he's definitely not getting action from anyone else with the way she marks him up. He's not _hers_, but he belongs to her, and he understands that.

"Finn?" she calls, just to double check that it's not like a pervy neighbor or an intruder or something, but the elephant steps on the stairs as she fluffs her hair lets her know that it's him. It bothers her briefly that she knows what his steps sound like, but she's distracted by the fact that his eyeballs are threatening to pop out of his head and roll around on her floor.

"You –fu – _wow_," he stammers, verbose as ever.

"I was just trying on my lingerie," she informs him, as if the assortment of lace that is _supposed_ to constitute a bunch of bras and panties on her bed isn't enough of an indication.

"That is a lot of panties," he comments, which is kind of stupid because _duh_, he's taken her lingerie shopping like three times and in the past two months and she's mean enough to take advantage of him and his credit card. It's not like she doesn't handsomely reward him. If this thing ever ends, he's going to have a life of disappointing sex compared to her. He knows it, she knows it. She blows his fucking mind (and sometimes that's not all she blows). He blows her mind too but fuck him if he thinks she's ever going to say that.

"Would you like to help?" she inquires, arching a perfectly tweezed eyebrow in his direction.

"With what exactly? Putting on lingerie, I'll pass, but I'll watch. Taking it off, fuck yeah I'll help," he smirks. She thinks it's hot when he does that. It's hot when he remembers to talk in full sentences too. He can be really dirty when he remembers to talk in full sentences.

He watches her for a minute, and she follows his eyes as they drink up everything she has to offer. She doesn't know how he does it, but he can make her wet just by eyeing her life he knows that she's his to fuck and he's going to fuck her good.

It took him a few times to figure out what she liked, but now that he's figured it out, he barely has to do anything and she just wants to tear off his clothes. Kind of like the way he's hard enough that she can see his cock pressing against the denim of his jeans and he hasn't even touched her yet. She licks her lips.

Finn smirks again when he catches her doing it, that fucker, and makes his way over to her. He wraps an arm around her waist and pushes her hair to the side with his free hand so he can leave soft kisses along her neck. She pushes her ass back not so subtly against his jeans and he chuckles, a fucking evil chuckle, like he's a Cheshire cat or something.

"Desperate, are we?" he asks, looking at her through the mirror before sucking on her neck again, pulling up a bruise. She knows she should bitch about it, but it's kind of hot that he's apparently grown the balls to mark his territory. She's watching his lips work on her neck through the mirror, and she feels that familiar tingling sensation take over, her body's silent plea to be touched. She moves her hand down slowly, hoping he won't see, but he does, and stops her hand. "You know better than that," he warns, so she drops her hand, running it along his thigh instead. She _does_ know better.

The last time she tried to speed things along, he brought her to the edge so many times she was fucking crying by the time he let her come. Yeah, she lets him wear the pants sometimes. Well, the metaphorical pants because what kind of an idiot keeps their pants on during sex?

He moves his hand to the string on her corset and unties it, his fingers working on loosening each of the ties. She realizes that she was having trouble breathing, and she's not sure if it's because she was trying to replicate fucking 17th century England or something or if it's because of him. Regardless, she's panting a little as he tugs the corset up and pulls it off of her, locking eyes through the mirror.

She's never had sex in front of a mirror before and honestly, she's enjoying it more than she thought she would. Except for the part where he's wearing a lot of close and she's basically a string away from being naked. And like a fucking mind reader, he's pulling his shirt off, growling quietly into his ear as he pulls her against him. She's still not sure where he gained all this confidence from, but she's not complaining. He cups a breast and tweaks her nipple gently as he bites at her neck. She arches into his touch involuntarily and her head tilts back as _finally_ his hand slips into her barely-there panties and rubs her gently. Her lips part and she lets out an embarrassingly desperate moan.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asks, in a tone that's meant to rile her up, and it works. She digs her perfectly filed nails into his arm as a warning sign not to get to cocky because if she decides to cut off his access to her vagina at any point, it'll take a fucking crowbar to pry her legs open again. He's so fucking- "_ohhhh_"

She doesn't remember what she was going to say because his finger has slipped in to her gently for a split second and now he's rubbing her wetness all over her clit. For some reason, she always feels like a slut when he does that, but it is such a fucking _turn on_. "Open your eyes," he whispers, more as a suggestion than as an order.

He's good at this. He knows when to push and when to be gentle, so she does what he wants and opens her eyes, watches him rub her as his other hand works on her breasts. She's aching for him and she's so _fucking_ wet, she needs him in her now. Reaching behind her, she sighs in relief as she realizes that he's not wearing a belt, so she pops the button on his jeans and pulls down the zipper like a damned expert. It's not the first time she can't see what she's doing so she's gotten good at this and doesn't even fumble. He pulls a hand away to push off his jeans and boxers kicking them away. She takes the liberty of pushing down her own panties, and he takes advantage of the fact that she's bent and totally ready for him to slide into her.

She grabs onto the mirror for support as she comes back up to a comfortable position and fuck, this is really hot. She can see everything. The faces she's making, the way he's burying his face in her neck and snaking his hand down between them to rub her. She's already so close and he's barely done anything to her, but it's always like this. She always comes for him at least twice before he does.

This feels a little like watching a sex tape, only there's no tape, it's live action. She's clenched around him and she's thrusting back against him, keeping him deep in her pussy. "Baby, fuck… fuck!" she cries, as she tightens around him, head thrown back and eyes clamped shut, chanting his name with no shame because he's fucking earned it. He groans behind her as she tightens but keep pushing her through it.

"Again, San," he whimpers, pulling her against him more with her free hand as he bites at her neck gently. She tilts her head forward again as she looks like she's in pain, because she is. She's overly sensitive and it fucking hurts, but it's the best kind of hurt possible because _damn_, his cock feels amazing and she's still so tight from having come. They both look absolutely needy, and she changes the angle a bit, watching her boobs bounce with the force of him thrusting into her. Their movements are getting erratic and she feels her orgasm building again. "Finn… Finn…" she says, an unnecessary warning because he knows _exactly_ how close she is. He pinches her clit and thrusts into her hard and she's moaning his name all over again, whipering gently as he comes with her this time and fills her. She's on the pill and that feeling, that split second where he tips over the edge inside of her, reminds her exactly why. She likes that it, loves it even, though she'll never admit that.

They both breathe heavily and lean against the mirror for support. He kisses her shoulder gently and buries his face in her neck again. Her legs feel like jelly but he's holding her up so she doesn't fall. They just stay like like that for a while, pressed against the mirror with him still in her. Eventually, once their breathing has leveled out and the moment passes, he pulls out and reaches for his boxers and jeans. She arches an eyebrow at him through the mirror.

"What do you think you're doing?" she inquires, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Getting dressed," he replies, back to his usual self.

"But I still have all these other sets I need to put on," she pouts.

"Do I get to help take them off?" he grins, flashing one of his trademark smiles at her with a quick arch of his eyebrows.

She smirks and he drops his boxers. It's going to be a long afternoon.


End file.
